The Magic of Deduction
by knuckz
Summary: As the truth behind Governor Tom Riddle's treachery rears its ugly head, there has been a death at Hogwarts. The general consensus is suicide, but Dumbledore decides to get a second opinion from an outsider: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. AU.


**The Magic of Deduction**

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Summary: As the truth behind Governor Tom Riddle's treachery rears its ugly head, there has been a death at Hogwarts. The general consensus is suicide, but Dumbledore decides to get a second opinion from an outsider: Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

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The Basics of Murder: I

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He stood out like a sore thumb.

His attire was certainly different from the norm; where every Hogwarts student wore the standard school uniform consisting of dark, unfashionable robes, he was dressed like a muggle throughout. However, dark jeans and a t-shirt weren't all that drew the attention of the student population. His face was the likes of one unseen in the halls of Hogwarts, emerald-green eyes that glowed amongst his pallid skin, his dark and messy hair making his complexion seem the more paler and his eyes the brighter for it.

He walked down the Great Hall, heading towards the Head Table without a care, despite being the subject of the eyes and whispers of all those around him. Near the end of the table, a redhead whispered to his friend.

"Who do you reckon he is, Hermione?" the boy asked his seatmate. The brown-haired girl bit her lip.

"I don't know," she replied, her dinner temporarily forgotten as she surveyed the boy, "But he looks really young, probably around our age."

The boy came to a stop in front of the Head Table, facing the school Headmaster directly.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he greeted, his voice silencing all the murmurs around the hall, "It's been a long time."

"I apologize for giving you such short notice," Dumbledore said, his voice weary, "Though you've come at quite a convenient time. Would you like to join us?"

"I'm quite alright, thanks," the boy said, "I've had a bite to eat on the train ride over. Perhaps I'll just mingle with your students?"

"I understand," Dumbledore said, setting down his cutlery, rising from his seat, "Then-"

"No, you don't have to announce me," the boy said, giving the Headmaster pause, "I prefer to make my own introduction."

With that, the boy strolled away, heading toward the Gryffindor table.

"Hello," he greeted, speaking to the same redheaded boy that he had overheard whispering, "I'll be joining you, if you don't mind."

Without waiting for a reply, the boy took a seat beside the redhead, the Gryffindor table magically expanding to accommodate him. A plate and goblet appeared in front of him, but he ignored it in favour of staring at the frozen redhead beside him, raising his eyebrows in expectation.

"Oh, well," the redheaded boy stuttered, momentarily taken off-guard by his boldness before recovering, "Right. Er, hello. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

The boy gave no reply, instead opting to look at the blond across from him. Ron Weasley frowned slightly.

"You might have heard of me," the blond said, a look of distaste on his face as he eyed the muggle apparel the boy chose to wear, "Draco Malfoy? Though I'm not a Gryffindor, of course. I'm only here because… well, you'd have heard it in the news. It would be unseemly not to offer my support to my classmates."

"I see," the boy said, grabbing his goblet. He brought it up close to his eyes, examining the decorative engravings covering it. He turned it sideways, forward, backward, and upside down. Finally, when he had satisfactorily inspected it, he brought the goblet to his lips. Tilting it up, he took a sip.

"Isn't…" Ron spoke up again, faltering slightly.

"Isn't what?" the boy asked, eyeing the inside of the goblet, waiting for Ron to get enough courage to finish his question.

"Isn't that goblet empty?"

He set the goblet back onto the table, turning to look at Ron.

"Do you see any drink inside the goblet?" he asked, "Did you see any spill when I turned it upside down?"

"I… no?"

"You have your answer then, don't you?" the boy said. At his nonchalant answer, Draco Malfoy wasn't able to keep his silence any longer.

"Then what were you drinking?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance, "You did take a sip, so what were you drinking?"

The boy gave a short chuckle.

"Nothing, obviously," he said, before leaning forward slightly, looking at the girl sitting on the other side of Ron, "You didn't introduce yourself."

Looking flustered at being called out, the girl rushed to give an answer.

"I'm-"

"Slightly interesting," the boy interrupted, focussing his gaze on her specifically, making her fidget at the intensity of it.

"I'm… sorry?"

"You're slightly interesting," the boy repeated, "Hermione the Muggleborn."

Instantly, all of the surrounding Hogwarts students stiffened, causing the smallest of smiles to come to the boy's face. The girl glared at him, gripping the table in anger. Ron Weasley pushed away from him slightly, recoiling.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp, "You think I don't belong here?"

The boy raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to the plate and goblet in front of him.

"No, never mind," he said, ignoring her fixed stare, "You're boring after all."

"I'll have you know that Hermione Granger is not the sort of muggleborn you're thinking of," Draco Malfoy said, "She's definitely on our side, and has proven it."

He was ignored.

"What do you mean I'm boring?" Hermione asked, still angry, "And if you think for one second that I'd join the Blood Eaters-"

"Your mannerisms, your reactions, your hair, your necklace." The boy counted on his fingertips, "Easily concluded if you observe correctly."

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" Ron said, getting angry himself. He was ignored.

"Hair is the easy one," the boy said, closing one finger, "Muggle product in the hair. Most purebloods and even half-bloods wouldn't be bothered to use it. Quite absurd of you, actually; any straightening solution would take care of it rather easily."

"Second, a little less obvious, are your mannerisms. You had to be asked to introduce yourself. It's nervousness, a feeling of inferiority to the Purebloods, probably subconsciously." The boy picked up a nearby pitcher of pumpkin juice and placed it beside his goblet.

"Not your fault, I'd say. What with Tom Riddle and that whole fiasco, just about any muggleborn would be feeling a little cautious," the boy said, closing another finger. With his free hand, he tapped his wand to the pitcher of juice.

"Pour." With his command, the pitcher hovered in place, tilting forward and slowly pouring juice into his goblet.

"Your reactions: you gripped the table in anger, you glared at me in defiance," the boy continued, a third finger closed, "There's probably some determination in there as well. You feel the need to prove that you have nothing to do with Tom Riddle and his ideals. You want to prove everybody wrong for doubting you."

"And finally, your necklace, or should I say your Cross?" he said, closing the fourth and final finger, "The idea of religion is untouched in British Wizarding society. Any pureblood knows that Christianity and sorcery doesn't mix. The concept of God doesn't exist in this society."

"You don't believe in God?" a nearby redhead said, eyeing him tentatively. The boy looked at her for a moment, his eyes flickering to the other redhead beside him, making a connection.

"I don't disbelieve in God," he answered, staring at her intently, "Tell me, how did you feel about Neville?"

The girl's face drained of colour, the Gryffindor's around him hissing in anger at the mention of the name. She turned away, her shoulders hunching and her body trembling.

"Well, I'm going to go then," the boy said, rising from his seat and walking away, "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"Hey, wait!" Ron said, angrily getting up as well, "Who the bloody hell are you anyway?"

The boy neither stopped nor turned around. He simply raised his hand in greeting before replying.

"Harry Potter," he said, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Harry…" Ron repeated, before raising his voice, "Harry Potter!"

Whispers once more broke out amongst the hall, Harry being the target again. He ignored all this as he approached Dumbledore. Stopping in front of the Headmaster once more, a brilliant grin broke out on his face.

"Harry?" the Headmaster asked. Yells of surprise erupted at Gryffindor table, Harry's goblet finally overflowing with juice and spilling out onto the table, having gone unnoticed.

"This is much more fun than I thought it would be, Headmaster," Harry said, almost laughing gleefully, "You were right to call me."

The Headmaster seemed to grow even wearier at Harry's words, almost unnoticeably sinking into his chair. Nearby, a fellow professor noticed his distress. Harry recognized her by sight, though they hadn't ever met.

"Are you alright, Albus?" she asked softly, "What's wrong?"

"It's quite simple, Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house," Harry said, "He called me here because he was feeling uneasy about the situation, and I've arrived at the conclusion that he worried might be true."

"Conclusion? You don't mean to tell me…"

Harry smiled.

"It was no suicide. Neville Longbottom was murdered."

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**AN: A short start, but it`s not really a long story. It`ll be broken up into parts for each arc. My update rate is not exactly renowned for being quick, but I`ll try to keep up.**

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**Thanks,**

**knuckz**


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